


Moments after the long night

by Winterdiamond112



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Headcanon, In Character, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterdiamond112/pseuds/Winterdiamond112
Summary: In the show, they didn't give them a story after the long night, so I did.This is my first fanfiction, be nice.I wrote this more for myself to make up for the lack of Missandei stories.
Relationships: Grey Worm/Missandei
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

Missandei comes out from the crypt, dazed and unsure of what she has witnessed. What she remembers is this: the Wights were coming for them, and they wouldn’t rest until they did. Their hands, pale and icy broke the walls of the crypt, digging even further so that the rest of their bodies could pass through. First, they took one woman who was crying and screaming until Missandei watched her turn, then they took another. Before she could take a full breath, she realized they have broken into the crypt completely, hunting every person that entered their sight. Missandei was lucky, by dropping to her knees she dodged the attack of one who quickly took hold of another woman behind her who let out a chilling scream. She crawled hurriedly into a space of the wall that caved in, blocking her from immediate sight. She remained crouched, and covered her mouth, so as not to make a single noise. 

She’s had to hide before, from the slave masters who were so drunk they would beat or force themselves onto any slave girl they found at night. Innocent girls who helped whomever they were told to at late hours were left vulnerable in the darkness. Missandei has been to many lands, stolen from one, sold to another, and she has had many masters like this. It was masters like Kraznys who chose and took girls like prey, doing as he wished with them, and surely, she hid from him too. However, being a very useful business tool to Kraznys as his translator and his interpreter, it became impossible to hide from him, to be spared for a night and left in peaceful sleep. Being spared by hiding in the shadows and staying quiet lessened its effectiveness with age, but it became a virtue she put to use during the long night. 

Missandei had stayed there, as quiet as she can be, petrified and expecting to be found, although that never came. When the screams, agonizing and chilling to her ears had stopped abruptly she stayed in her place, unmoving. If there was anything that she learned when hiding from masters was that the moment you believe you are safe is the moment you become prey. She wanted to stay there for the rest of the night, shaking and already deciding that it isn’t over until the sun’s first light, but she knew she couldn’t stay there. She peeked around the corner from her spot, not knowing what to expect, but she was still surprised by what she saw. There was nothing, no bodies, no clothes just chunks of ice scattered everywhere, erasing all evidence of The Long Night. If it weren’t for the others who indeed saw what she was seeing, she would have dismissed this as a dream. 

“Is it done?” she heard a child say, not quite with an air of relief, but more of a plead for mercy. “Is it over?” 

The survivors from the crypt all emerged through the steel doors, stumbling upon the tragic aftermath. There is only the final scene of the battle that lay in front of them. They could only imagine the rest based on positions that the dead bodies lay and the disturbing screams they heard while waiting for their own demise. Everyone made their way to the banquet hall, except Missandei who still had one more thing to do. She needed to find him, to make sure he was alright, or at least alive. Just let him be alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Missandei, walking quickly to the courtyard is weaving her way past the dead bodies who weren’t taken by the Wights. The air is bitterly cold and the wind is unforgiving. She turns around the corner and stopped in her tracks as immense surprise and sorrow fills her. She knows that death is inevitable in war, yes, and she knows who the enemy was but truly there was no mercy. In a frenzy, the survivors have already started clearing the bodies from the courtyard, moving them so that they may be burned on a pyre the next morning. The horror threatened to stop her search, so she asked which was more powerful, was it her fear or was it her love? 

So she keeps walking, needing to look at every face, praying that she doesn’t find the one that owns her heart. Every move she makes increases her fear and her worry but also her hope. She resents her hopeful heart, she feels that it lies only to betray her at the worst moment. But she continues, and his face doesn’t show itself. Missandei isn’t sure if this is a good sign or a bad sign. The Wights could have taken him, she reminds herself, they could have stolen him from her with only ice pellets to show as evidence. She imagines his skin turning pale and icy, his eyes turning to a shocking blue, devoid of any of the love she knows he has for her. The Naathi rejects the thought, not allowing it to be entertained any longer. If he is dead she will know by tonight, and if he is alive, she will know that too. 

Scanning the bodies and analyzing the faces leads her past the open gates and through a new pile of bodies. All of the hardworking soldiers and men continue cleaning up, ignoring the wandering woman. She passes the gates and the horrifying massacre is revealed to her again. She didn’t know the numbers of the living dead, only that the size was immense and it can grow in mere seconds. Regardless, she saw the struggle the Dothraki and Unsullied men endured, recognizing more and more faces that she’s exchanged words with in the past, and yet she still hasn’t seen the face she knows so well. 

“Missandei?” said a voice behind her, so she turns. “Missandei!” it was him, lightly jogging to her while holding his helmet at his side.

“Torgo!” she says, relieved as she runs to hug him around his neck. 

“Where were you? You were not at our spot. I thought you were hurt, or worse. Are you alright? Why are you here, past the gates?” 

Missandei had completely forgotten their plan to meet afterward at the same spot they met before the battle. She blames her overwhelmed and exhausted mind after witnessing the agonizing deaths of women and children around her, while at the same time obsessing over her cluelessness whether that was the fate of Torgo Nudho as well. 

“ I am fine Torgo, are you? I was looking for you, I must have wandered out here by mistake. Are you hurt?”

Looking down at her and using only dim and scattered light, he saw her wide brown eyes expressing deep concern, something he sees in her often, especially after an event such as this, but still, he isn’t used to the consideration. She amazes him every day, by doing such small things. 

“No, I am alright, but you need to get out of the cold. Go back to our room and I will meet you there later. I need to help out here” 

Missandei knows that while he may not be hurt, he isn’t very strong as he speaks with her. Through his stony exterior, she can sense the subtle cues, his fatigue, his weariness, his grief for his fallen soldiers and his concern for her safety. She can see it in his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw and in his breathing that the fog of the frigid air shows. She can feel how tightly he grips her arm and waist, gently but frantically ushering her inside the gates. And she can hear it in his voice. He tries to sound firm but becomes breathless by the time he finishes his sentence. She won’t fight with him, he deserves peace of mind about one thing. 

“Okay, I will see you there.” she kisses his lips quickly and instantly turns on her heel to walk toward the gates and to their room. 

The path to their room requires her to walk through the piles of bodies once more. She is grateful that she doesn’t need to inspect them, potentially being met with devastation, so she moves through them swiftly. But she is also thinking of Torgo, after successfully leading the Unsullied to battle an unknown enemy, his job is far from over. He is exhausted, she knows, she saw it for herself, so Missandei resolves to treat him how he deserves tonight, to show him her appreciation.


	3. Chapter 3

Every step he takes is heavier than the last, aching every muscle in his body. The banging of his feet on the stone and wood echos throughout the halls, he would have woken everybody up if they weren’t celebrating in the banquet hall. He would celebrate with them, but parties were never such a thing he could partake in as an Unsullied soldier. Even if the masters had let them, what would they celebrate? Congratulations, you’ve done your only job, and now your opportunity to be released by death is gone, your only window to freedom has closed. Celebrating the end of a battle was very pointless during those times. He could celebrate that he may see another day, but his life, his body and his very breath doesn’t belong to him in actuality. He is property, he is a tool in times of war and his existence is given to whoever pays enough coin. Fortunately, he is free in this battle, he is free to celebrate, so he celebrates in the only way that matters to him, with the only person that can make him feel. 

Grey Worm is exhausted, that is a given, but his exhaustion only lies in his body, in his muscles, and in his bones, but not in his soul. How can he be tired? He and his army, along with the Dothraki were the front lines in the battle against an unknown enemy. Since he’s been unsullied, which is his entire life, he had been taught the weaknesses of men, he knows their tendencies, however, the Wights were not men. After years of brutal training, he knows the fighting stances, the shifts of balance when his opponent is weary, and the foolish moves when they are scared. This enemy, the undead, is nothing he’s ever seen or known, and yet he and his brothers in arms succeeded, fighting not as mechanical, unfeeling soldiers, but as free men. Tonight, for the first time he truly feels his life is now his, he has hopes and promises that he’s made. For the first time, he looks forward to being alive, which can make someone extremely afraid of dying. The demonstration at King’s Landing did not do enough justice to the invasion. Mindless and immune to pain, their limitless determination was horrifying. Seeing just one couldn’t have placed enough fear into Cercei to join the fight, seeing the unfathomable number of walking dead bodies, and the dragon that breathes fire of ice into the dark, cold and long night is the only thing that can.   
Grey Worm finally arrives at his room. Rest at last. He opens the door to see Missandei waiting for him, smiling sweetly the way he loves. 

The door opens in front of her, revealing the weary soldier. He wasn’t exactly a surprise, she could hear his footsteps approaching from the end of the hall. He stands in the doorframe as he smiles at her gently.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello” she replied, nodding slightly.

Grey Worm takes a moment to look at her. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to again, but by the gods and goddesses, here she is right in front of him, completely unharmed. He could hold her and kiss her again, that alone was enough, this was his miracle. She stood in front of their bed, hands folded in front of her, lying gently on her silk nightgown. The fireplace was lit to her left, and all he could do was stare at the contours and angles of her face that the flickering light highlighted. Her hair, free from the headband that kept it away from her face, crowned her in all of its curly and unruled glory. Her round brown eyes, her full lips, her delicate jawline, all of these things he knew so well yet longed to touch, kiss and see again. 

His train of thought was interrupted when he sees her hand stretch in front of her, reaching for his. He steps in front of the door to close it and takes her soft hand into his, stepping closer to her. He turns her palm and lifts it to caress his face and he kisses it softly, causing a bigger smile to stretch across the Naathi’s face. Grey Worm isn’t a talker, he has no way with words, even in Valyrian. But she means so much to him, so he tries to show her instead, and Missandei does the same for him. 

Wanting to hear her giggle this time, he slowly leans in to kiss her, which was rejected with a dodge and a grimace on her face. Grey Worm moves back, slightly embarrassed and unsure of what to do. He then realizes what the offense was; everything. His clothes, his skin, and his face were covered in ash, blood, and sweat, and the odor was something he didn’t notice but clearly Missandei did. She takes his hand and guides him to the hot bath she’d prepared for him before he came. Missandei hoped that it wouldn’t go cold by the time he arrived and after dipping a finger into the water she realizes the timing was better than expected. 

“Well, get in.” she prompted him. 

In truth, Grey Worm has never had a bath like this, he’s only ever cleaned in lakes and rivers where the masters forced them to. Even on Dragonstone, he’d take the plunge and continued to shiver in the cold despite the respect Danerys had for him, something he’s never had with his other masters. He decided to brave the cold as his army did, and under watchful eyes, he felt that he needed to reaffirm the unity he had with them. He’s started with the Unsullied as a slave, fought, hurt and healed with them, because of this, he thought there was no reason for him to believe he was their better. 

The steam from the small pool of water entices him, hypnotizing him with the dances they perform in the air, almost reaching his skin. The water, decorated with flower petals, has a serene and peaceful beauty, gently reflecting the candlelight that dimly illuminates the room. Grey worm looks at Missandei whose smiling, always smiling, as her head nods when she glances at the bath and back up at him. He takes off his clothes and steps into the bath awkwardly, he nearly slips then grabs the edges of the tub before sinking slowly into what felt like a warm bed of honey. He realizes now how dirty he truly is, he thinks to himself that the water itself might change color. 

Missandei walks around the tub slowly with a washing rag in her hand, letting him soak for a while as she prepares the soap. Grey Worm sits there obediently, trying not to give in to the powerful persuasion of sleep that the bath gives him. His fatigue, although new, sits in his bones as the warm water soothes his aching muscles in a way he’s never known. The steam still hasn’t stopped their dancing, and when he takes his hand out of the water, his hand is now the stage. He can smell the flowers that inch closer toward his face as they float peacefully on the water, their scent reminds him of Missandei when he holds her close while they fall asleep. Before the battle, he wasn’t sure he could do that again, but he can, he knows that now, that was what he was fighting for. 

Missandei comes to him and kneels beside the right side of the tub when she starts with his feet and ankles. She helps Danaerys with her baths all the time, following a similar routine. After his ankles, she cleans his calves, his knees, his thighs. She runs the rag on his abdomen, scrubbing gently to get the grime and dirt off of his skin, and admiring the body that fought so hard to keep her safe. Then she cares for his chest and neck. She’s closer to his face now and looks at him. His eyes are closed, very clearly enjoying the special treatment. Missandei isn’t sure if he’s sleeping or not, but that doesn’t stop her. He deserves the rest, he deserves the attention. 

Missandei continues to his shoulders, down to his biceps and forearms, etched with muscle and veins that slither down his arms. She moves to his left side, repeating the process before moving to his back. Grey worm is awake now, barely, lazily blinking away the weariness. Missandei is now behind him, providing her right palm for his head to rest on. First, she scrubs his left cheek, his jaw, his nose, his eyebrows, his temples, and his ear. Then, switching sides and palms, she does the same to his right before running the rag over his hair. His eyes are closed again, she rests his head on her left shoulder. She kisses him, on his cheek and on his neck, breathing into him and hugging him close. His head tilts her way, their cheeks caressing each other. He sighs, then speaks, perhaps he was never sleeping at all. 

“Thank you, Missandei. You coddle me more than I deserve.” 

“You have me now, you will love me and I will love you. I am showing you my gratitude to you for your life and your service. You trained the Unsullied relentlessly for this. Who knows what would have happened without you.” she held him tighter when she said this.

“We trained very hard for this, and yet, I still felt that we were very unprepared. This enemy, we did not know enough about them. It was like a nightmare. If you saw them, you would see that it was like they couldn’t feel, they didn’t have minds of their own. I cannot describe it to you well enough, you had to have seen one killing with their bare teeth to fully understand the horror.” 

“But I did see them. I saw them while I was in the crypt.”

“What?” Grey Worm lifts his head from her shoulder and turns himself to look at Missandei. His eyebrows are lifted as surprise consumes him. “How?” he asks.

“They broke in” 

“I tested the door myself, there is nothing that can get through it.” 

“They didn’t come through the door.” she trails off her sentence slightly, letting silence rest between them. Grey Worm’s eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at Missandei confusedly as if she had betrayed him terribly. 

She continues, “they came through the wall, and,” she shakes her head, still trying to make sense of it all. “They killed many of the women and children that were hiding there with me. I saw them, Torgo, and it will terrify me for the rest of my days.”

Grey worm saw the solemn look on the translator’s face and it broke him, hearing those words. She had been so close to danger and he, being at the front lines, had no idea. He thought he was protecting her, even if he died at least she would be safe. He was wrong, and he disliked that. 

He lifted his left hand from the water and onto Missandei’s right cheek. She didn’t mind the water on her face, it masked the tears that threatened to fall, however, the tears on her other cheek revealed her sadness. 

Grey worm thought about what would have happened if she were attacked. Her hair would have turned frosted and icy, contrasted to the soft brown curls that are tickling the back of his hand just slightly.   
Her eyes, they bring him both a tickling nervousness in his stomach and calm reassurance in his soul as they lure and trap him. Their deep brown would have turned to a piercing blue, dead and completely void of the life that he sees in them every day.   
Her light brown skin that he knows so well, every scar and every place that she likes to be kissed. The warmth from her skin radiates to his fingertips, making them buzz whenever they’re near her. Imagining it turning to a gray-tinted color, chilling and giving her skin a raw feeling made his heart weigh tonnes, forcing all of the air from his lungs.   
He wouldn’t have been able to be with her right now, he couldn’t be looking directly at her. He would only be consumed with grief, wondering if she was in pain while her body changed, praying that the last thing she felt wasn’t the feeling of death beginning from within her body and spreading like a sickness to her fingertips, her toes and to the top of her head. But instead, she was here, with him, untouched and completely safe. 

“They cannot hurt us anymore” Grey Worm reassured her. “Never again.”


End file.
